Pretty Girl
by BlinkYourEyes
Summary: "You are...a very pretty girl." He assured, removing the strand of hair that just didn't seem to want to stay behind her ear. Hermione/Scabior. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**Just fell in complete love with this pairing. I hope you enjoy it!**

It was her turn to keep watch. She clutched the locket that sat frozen against her collarbone, watching her breath fog up the air in the winter night. "You alright for the night?" A voice startled her, causing her to turn around, wand at the ready. "Blimey, 'Mione. Was just a question." Ron growled, almost tripping over his own feet. She glared at him, not lowering her wand. He swallowed hard, staring at her. She sneered at him. "I'd take that off, if I were you." Ron mumbled, walking off, back to the tent.

Hermione sighed, realizing that he was right. She took the locket off from around her neck and stuffed it into the pocket of her pants. It felt like a million worries had just been lifted off her shoulders. Yet, she felt as though a million more had just been put on by the way she had treated Ron. "I need a walk..." She grumbled to herself, running an ice cold hand through her hair. Looking through the wall of security, she made sure no one was in sight, and slipped through it, making herself visible.

After a couple of minutes, she came across a large pond. For a couple of moments, she sat down on a large rock, looking at the frozen pond with peace. She bit down on her lip, and only then did she realize how cracked and dry her lips were. Using her wand, she melted a good amount of the pond, cleaned it, and warmed it to her liking. She scooped up some of the warm water with her hands, and brought it to her lips. The moment it touched her, she felt relieved. She didn't bother to swallow it; she just let it drip over her mouth, moistening her lips.

As she was taking a third handful of water, a relfection caught her eye. From the other end of the pond, right across from her, she saw a figure's relfection on the frozen pond. Her eyes slowley trailed above the pond, and landed on a man. It wasn't that far off a distance, and she could make out most of his features perfectly.

He had long, tied back brown hair, with a barely faded streak of red. It was touseled, and looked as if it hadn't been brushed in months. His eyes weren't as clear, but they seemed to sparkle brightly, so she guessed they were green, or a nice shade of blue. He wore a leather jacket, what seemed to be a leather vest underneath, plaid trousers, and black combat boots. His face was blank, but his eyes were slghtly squinted, looking directly at her.

He kneeled down in the snow, right on the edge of the pond that he had unfrozen. Taking a handful of the water, he splashed the freezing liquid on his face, waking him up a lot more than he expected. As he dried his face off with his sleeve, a scent hit his nose. A wonderful, sweet, addicting, all to familiar smell. Vanilla and...and...strawberries, was it? He looked around him, but saw no one. Only when he looked across the lake did he see a moving figure. A womans moving figure, at that.

He watched as her honey colored hair fell over her shoulders when she bent down to get some water, not moving an inch. He could tell that she had brown eyes, since they seemed so dark against her light skin. She wore a pair of black skinny jeans, a grey sweater, and what seemed to be water-repellent UGG boots.

Scabior found himself licking his lips, staring at the girl ahead. A smirk soon sat on his lips, and his eyes never left hers once she looked up.

Hermione should've been scared. She wasn't supposed to be seen by anyone outside of their tent. But this stranger intrigued her. Something about him made her want to go over there and talk to him. _No! I can't give myself away, or worse, Harry._ She thought, shaking her head. Without a word, or a second glance, she turned around and began to walk away.

Scabior immediatly went into action once he saw that she was leaving. With a wave of his wand, he re-froze the pond, and caustiously put a foot on the ice. It didnt break. Carefully, he placed his other foot on the ice; still it didnt break. Smirking to himself, he silently glided across the pond. In a moments time, he was across on the other side, watching her retreating form.

Getting the feeling that she was being watched, which she _knew_ she was, Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Going somewhere, love?" A voice asked, strangely sounding much closer than it should've. Hermione turned around, hiding her wand in her beaded bag. "Didn't think so." Scabior smirked. In no less than three seconds, he had her pinned to a nearby tree. Hermione grunted as her head hit the rough bark. "Now, my pretty one, how 'bout you tell Scabior what they call you?" He grinned, pressing his body against her own. Suddenly his face got a lot closer than expected, but strangely, she didn't mind. His breath didn't smell nearly as bad as she thought it would. Instead of blood and dirt and garbage, she smelled honey, oranges, and a hint of cigarrette.

"Penel-Penelope. Penelope Clearwater." She stuttered, her breath getting heavy as he put more of his weight on her. He took out a ragged looking notebook. He closed his eyes and chuckled after flipping a couple of pages.

"Penelope Clearwater was claimed dead a month ago." He raised an eyebrow, adding a charming smile to go along with it. "Your real name, please?" He asked, his face getting closer and closer to hers. She couldn't tell him. It'd put Harry in danger, and then what chance would they have of defeating Voldemort?

"I...I can't." She responded bravely, trying unsuccesfully to push a bit of his weight off. "It'd ruin everything." She added. He took his fingers and send a strand of hair behind her ear. She shuddered at his touch, which was freezing, but his hands were softer than clouds. She wanted to melt into his touch, but he removed his hand before she had a chance to press it her cheek.

He chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. "We'll see about that." He moved his nose down to her neck, where he inhaled her scent, without actually touching her. "You smell like...vanilla and strawberries." He breathed, caressing her cheek with his slender fingers. "Stay." He instructed; and she felt his weight being lifted off of her.

She watched as he rumaged through his pockets, apparently searching for something. He pulled out a small vile, smiled to himself, and leaned back on her. "You know what this is, don't ya?" He asked, holding the small vile up to her face. Inside was a clear liquid. "Veritiserum." He stated, uncorking the cap.

"I have no intention of drinking that." She instantly snapped, immediatly recognizing the potion.

"Oh, but you 'ave no choice." He laughed. And he knew just how to make her open up. He took his finger and thumb, and started gently massaging her jaw. She bit down on her lip to keep herself from letting out the tiniest moan of satisfaction. He saw this, and chuckled. She couldn't last much longer. With his thumb and forefinger, he gently took hold of her chin, and brought her lips as close to his without touching. His breath lingered on her for a moment, and then he gave her the smallest kiss. She tasted...as beautiful as she smelled. Vanilla and strawberries. Unable to take this beautiful man's teasing, she let out a small groan, and just like that, the liquid was down her throat.

"You're an awful man." She sneered, having no choice but to swallow it.

"I'll live." He shrugged. "Now, I require your name."

"Hermione Granger." She spit out, immediatly regretting it afterwards. Scabior's eyes lit up.

"Oh, so i've got myself an Undesirable, do I?" He smiled, playing with her hair. "Jus' think of all the gold I could recieve for turning you in. Well, of course i'd 'ave to 'ave Potter and the Weasel..." He ranted, mumbling to himself. "But, luckily for you, I 'ave no intention of turning you in, love." He soothed.

"You...you don't?" She seemed surprised. "Why not...?"

"Cause what fun would it be to 'ave such a pretty girl like you locked away, eh?" He answered, winking. She felt a blush creep to her cheeks as he again started caressing her cheek. "I've still got questions though," He muttered. "Is that red haired, good for nothing, carrot-look alike, your boyfriend?" He asked, true curiousity in his tone. Hermione shook her head. "Well, then 'hat make's this a little more...true, wouldn'tcha say?" He didn't wait for her to reply. "Next question. You find me...what?"

She had to think about this one. Soon, words were pouring out of her mouth. "Mysterious. Creepy as hell. Charming. Attractive. Foul. Awful. Mischevious. I think you put on a tough act, though sometimes it isn't an act at all, but on the inside, your just a poor young man looking for a job and some money, so you can keep your own mouth fed and your own back clothed. I find you intriguing and infuriating at the same time, and I can't make up my mind about you. I think you're forceful with others because others were always forceful with you." She explained, looking him straight in the eye.

He looked at her, dumbfounded. "So i'm attractive, eh?" He remarked, flashing a smile. She rolled her eyes.

"More than I care to admitt." She admitted. He was very aware of it, but she hadn't noticed it till now; their bodies were so close to each other that their hips were touching. If he had asked one more question, their lips would meet once more. This was her chance to actually see him. He had an almost square shaped face, which looked hard when he was angry. His eyes, as she guessed, were a startling blue. Even in the night time, she could see them glitter so brightly. He had dark circles under them, probably results from lack of sleep. His skin wasn't necassarily pale, nor was it very close to being dark. It was more of an olive tone. His hair seemed a lot lighter up close than it did faraway, and the red streak looked almost neon now.

He took the chance to examine her face, as well. Her dark honey hair sat around her shoulders, some locks in waves, others straight. She had porcelian like skin, and a heart shaped face. Her eyes, as predicted, were a deep chocolate brown, and he seemed to feel warmer once he looked inside of them. "You are...a very pretty girl." He assured, removing the strand of hair that just didn't seem to want to stay behind her ear. "One...one more question." He said, clearing his throat. "You...you _enjoyed_ my lips, I presume?" He grinned.

"Perhaps." Hermione smirked. And from that moment, she felt at ease as she herself leaned in and connected their lips. He released her arms and allowed her to wrap them around his neck, whilst he wrapped his own around her waist, pulling her closer, if that were possible.

**Sorry it was so long! Hope you guys enjoyed, it was my first Hemione/Scabior story!**


	2. Chapter 2

It was the feeling of something warm against her body that made her wake up first. As soon as she opened her eyes, memories came flooding back to her.

***Flashback***

_She pushed him away for a moment, gasping for air. "Wait." She instructed, reaching into her beaded bag. She pulled out the extra tent that she had brought incase theirs had gotten ruined. With a flick of her wand, it was set up, and her carried her in, bridal style. _

***End Flashback***

She smiled to herself, leaning back into what she found to be Scabior's chest. She felt a smooth cloth against her neck, and turned in his arms, coming in contact with the scent of vanilla and strawberries. He was wearing her scarf.

***Flashback***

_Her hands trailed from his long hair to his neck. He was wearing her scarf; he had somehow taken it from her own neck. With her slender fingers, she began to take the scarf from around his neck. His hand suddenly gripped her own, and directed it down to his jacket. "Not...not the scarf." He breathed, releasing her hand. _

***End Flashback***

Why the scarf? Why had he chose to keep it on? "What are you hiding?" She whispered, looking at his beautiful face. With her hand, she gently tried to remove the scarf from his neck, but again, he grabbed it midway.

"Let's not be to 'asty, love." He murmered, removing her hand. She sighed, rolling her eyes. "'ello, beautiful." He whispered, opening his eyes. He kissed her palm, smiling down at her.

"What's wrong? Don't you trust me?" She asked, deciding on resting her hand on his toned chest. He chuckled, brushing some hair out of her face.

"Nothing. And...no, I don't." He smiled. "Well, I only met you 'bout...hmm...twelve hours ago? What'd you 'xpect?" He laughed. "C'mon, you know i'm right." He added, grazing her cheek with his finger. She gave him a small smile, biting down on her lip. "There's 'hat smile." He grinned, giving her a small kiss. Still, her fingers played with the scarf, curiousity swimming in her eyes. He sighed. "If you want to know the truth, i'm more 'shamed than anythin' else to show you." He admitted, drawing circles on her cheek. She smiled understandingly, looking up into his eyes. "But if you really want to see..." He trailed off, averting his gaze. After a moment, Hermione again tried to lower the scarf from his neck. This time, he didn't stop her.

She didn't gasp, as he expected her to. She just took a finger and ran it over the symbols that were tattooed on his skin. The symbols of Azkaban seemed as if they had just been painted on. "It's nothing to be ashamed of...well...in your case." She pointed out, still staring at the ink. "Not when you're sent to prison for saving your own life." She added.

"Still...nothing's the same, anymore. Everythin's changed." He inquired, playing absentmindedly with her hair. "With this stupid mark, i'm not Scabior, no more. I'm jus'...one of _'em._" He swallowed. Hermione looked over to his arm, but saw no Dark Mark. "What'd you think, i'd actually want to come in contact wit' 'im?" He asked, following her gaze to his arm. "No way, no how." He shook his head. "One mark of my mistakes is enough, 'ank you."

"We all make mistakes. They're easy to forget." She assured, taking her eyes from his arm, and back up to his face.

"...but some of us are left wit' a reminder 'hat 'ey 'appened." He added on, sighing. She sighed as well, knowing very well that it wasn't going to be easy to get him to forgive himself. She snuggled deeper into his chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin. Then a thought hit her. She should be getting back to Ron and Harry. Oh, they'd be flipping out right about now.

"I should go back. They'll be worried sick." She sighed, closing her eyes. He groaned, disappointed that their fun was over. "How about, I come and meet you everytime it's my turn to keep watch?" She suggested, gathering herself out of the bed. "That's every three days." She added, seeing him trying to understand when it would be. She got dressed, and gathered her things. "And you should get back to your camp, too." She pointed out. "See you in three days." She smiled, kissing him firmly on the lips.

She returned to camp, meeting Ron and Harry inside the tent."Hermione!" Ron panicked, bringing her in for a hug. She awkwardly hugged him, instantly feeling Scabior-sick. "We were so worried..." Ron sighed, letting go. She gave Harry a hug too, and shrugged.

"I'm alright." She smiled. "Just fell asleep in the woods."

"Well, at least any catchers didn't see you." Harry said. Hermione bit her lip, smiling to herself. _Yeah, absolutely._

**A/N: Now I have such an idea for this story. Tell me if you want me to continue it, cause I have so many ideas!**


	3. Chapter 3

She should've stopped thinking about him. She should've felt ashamed the moment that his lips touched hers. But she didn't. He was all that was running through her mind as she sat down on her bed. "Scabior..." She whispered, smiling as the name rolled off of her tongue. She felt a certain uneasiness in her stomach, and nuesea soon took over. "I'm going for a walk." She called over her shoulder, slinging her back over her head. All she needed was some fresh air. "Don't worry, i'll be careful." She added, seeing Ron's disapproving glare.

As soon as she stepped a few feet from the tent, she froze. Voices were heard in the distance. Soon, a few figures could be seen and then he came in view. Closer, closer, closer...and then he was almost gone, before he turned right back around and stared right into her eyes. "Wait!" He spoke, putting a hand up to stop his fellow Snatchers. Hermione's eyes traveled down to his neck, where his scarf still rested. He sniffed the air, and a knowning glint showed up in his eyes. His fingers toyed with the fringe of her scarf, and the corner of his lips lifted in the slightest movement, indicating a smile. A thud took him from his trance. "Whatch'a doin'?" He asked, turning around. The body of a Muggleborn child was dropped on the floor, the Snatcher carrying it stretching out his arms.

"It's heavy." He shrugged, looking at Scabior cluelessly.

"Oh, i'm sorry, would you like me to carry it?" Scabior retorted, glaring at the Snatcher. The Snatcher smiled, looking grateful.

"Yes, thank you." He grinned, looking down at the small body. Scabior rolled his eyes, approaching the young Snatcher.

"Pick it up." He growled, shoving the Snatcher, who reluctantly picked the body back up. With a last glance in Hermione's direction, Scabior led the group away from her camp.

How could she be so _stupid?_ She had put on the perfume yesterday, for Ron. "It's good to know they work." A voice said. She didnt turn around, but she knew it was Harry. "Your enchantments." He clarified. She looked away from the spot Scabior stood moments ago, and turned to Harry.

"He could smell it. My perfume." She shuddered, closing her eyes. "I- i'm sorry..." She apologized. Harry didn't say anything. "I'll be more careful next time..." She mumbled. Harry patted her on the shoulder, and went back into the tent. She stood there for a moment, before an idea hit her, than made even her doubt herself. "Why not go _after _him?" She asked herself, barely above a whisper. "Oh, i've lost my marbles." She sighed, leaning against a tree. "Why would I go after someone who wants to kill my two best friends in the whole world?" She groaned, throwing her head in her hands. _Because you two had sexual relations, and the fact that you did so now sticks with you;_ a voice in the back of her head pointed out. She sighed, realizing it was right. "Well, i've got to be completely mad to be doing this." She grumbled to herself, pushing off of the tree trunk. With that, she crossed the protective boundaries once again, shrugging off the nagging voicies of Harry and Ron in her head.

Minutes passed, and there was no sight of him. Pretty soon, his footprints in the snow were gone, and she soon got lost. "Fuckin' perfect..." She muttered, throwing her hands up in the air. A dash of red from the corner of her eye gave her hope, but the sight was much worse. A torn apart rabbit lay in the snow, covered and surrounded by its own blood. Hermione suppresed a gasp, throwing a hand over her mouth. Tears soon stung at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall over a rabbit. Suddenly, a dark and heavy figure fell over her, and she was pinned to the ground, shivering as the snow made contact with her skin.

"Mmm...hello girly." A voice growled. Hermione dared to open her eyes to sneak a look at her captor. She expected Greyback, or maybe even Scabior himself. Instead, a younger looking, red haired boy sneered down at her. Her first thought was Ron, but that was quickly dismissed once she noticed his light golden eyes. His deep red hair was almsot longer than hers, and he had a slightly stubbled chin. He had blood around his mouth; had he been the one to kill rabbit. He wasn't very handsome, with dirt and grime covering almost every visible patch of skin. "Mmm, yes, you'll do lovely." He breathed, running a finger down her cheek. She shuddered. It didn't feel nearly as good as when Scabior did it. Before he even got to say another word, she felt him being lifted off of her, and she could breath again. "Unfgh!" He slurred as he was thrown into a tree.

"Don't. Touch. 'er." A voice seethed, followed by heavy breathing. She knew that voice. It was him. Scabior had come to her rescue. Hermione still lay on the ground, staring at the scene before her. "How," Scabior grabbed the boy by the back of the shirt. "Many," He lifted him up, gripping him tightly. "Times," He grabbed the back of his head, pulling his hair. "Do I 'ave," He gripped the boys jaw firmly, causing the young lad to groan in pain. "To tell you?" He sighed. "Do not go off on your own." He growled, releasing the boy. Only when the boy made another move for Hermione did Scabior grab him by the hair again, and smashed his face into a nearby tree. The boy moaned, sliding to the ground, his face bloodier than ever. Hermione shuddered. " 'nd don't touch 'er." He breathed, cracking his knuckles. "Bloody vampire..." He trailed off. The young vampire, whose name was Keiran, had been recruited by the Snatchers, on the orders of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione didn't know whether to be afraid or...aroused. There was something about his thirst for a fight at this moment made her breathe heavy. She soon decided against the latter after she saw Scabior kick the boy down once he tried to get up and stalk towards Hermione one last time. Once he was down, and the boy lay unconcious at his feet, Scabior walked over to her, grinning his charming grin. He reached out to stroke her hair, but she shrank away from him. His face fell, and his heart sank to his stomach. He didn't mean to scare her; he was just trying to protect her. She should be grateful. Once again, he tried to reach out to her, but she again recoiled from his touch. He grew frustrated. With another moments wait, he quickly embraced her and kissed her tenderly. The kiss made her want to go weak in the knee's, and she almost gave in to him. Then she saw the blood on his hands, and her fear grew again. She pushed him off with all of her strength, and ran away, leaving him there.

"Wait..." He cried desperatley. "I'm sorry..." He breathed, sinking to his knee's, the snow staining his plaid pants. "I'm sorry..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Scabior:**

"Get back to the camp." He muttered, sulking over to Keiran, who still lay in the snow, desperatly trying to get himself on his feet. Once he stood, he just stared at Scaior, blood running from his nose and mouth. "I said, _get back to camp!_" He growled, shoving the young vampire towards the direction of the camp. Keiran glared, then turned around and ran. Soon Scabior found his feet leading him in the direction of Hermione's camp, his mind reeling with regrets. _Wish she 'adnt followed me. Wish she never saw me like 'hat._ Soon he stood in the same place he had moments before, except something was off. Something was...wrong. As he sniffed the air, he froze. It was gone. There was no vanilla or strawberries tainting his nostrils. No sweet touch of honey. Instinctavly, he reached for the scarf around his neck. But it wasn't there. Panicking, he thought as to where it could've been. Than an image came to mind of the minutes before.

_**Flashback**_

_She pushed him off with all of her strength, and grasped the scarf between her fingers before running off, leaving him there._

_**End Flashback**_

_I was to damn distracted to notice..._He thought. Frantically, without thinking, he stepped right through the protective barrier, only to see that there was nothing there. The tent was gone. She was gone. With a frustrated growl, he clenched his fist and threw a sideways punch into a tree trunk. Ignoring the throbbing in his hand, he soon found something dripping down his face. He looked up at the sky, and squinted at the sun. It wasn't raining. He felt his forhead and neck, and frowned. He wasn't sweating. With a finger, he took the drop from his face and placed it on his tongue, and spit when it was salty. It was a tear. Had he really not cried in so long that he had forgotten what a tear was? "What the bloody 'ell...?" He muttered, feeling more and more tears coming. Soon, he was back up against a tree. As he slid down the trunk, the back of his neck rubbed onto something silky and soft. He bolted around and found Hermione's scarf tied around the trunk.

**Hermione:**

Ron had left. Right after she had returned to camp, moments after she had escaped Scabior and the vampire. Something about not being included. Giving up. She cried for hours. She cried for Ron, for Scabior, for Harry, for herself, for the vampire...for the bunny. She cried as she tied the scarf around the tree, telling herself it was for Ron, but knowing it wasn't. She cried once her and Harry disapparated. She cried even harder when she realized that Ron had no way of knowing where they were. She just...cried.

And she had a problem. A big one. She threw up. A lot. Almost everytime she woke up. Sometimes before she went to sleep. It all depended on the time. As she lay on her bed in the tent, when she should've been sleeping, she contemplated this in her mind. _Was it something I ate?_ No, she always checked that what they ate was safe. _Am I just sick?_ It was a possibility. It was easy to catch the flu or a cold in this weather. But you didn't throw up everyday with the flu. A thought rushed into her mind, but she quickly pushed it away. No. There was no way. The only way it could be possible is if she had given up herself to a man, and she couldn't recall a time that she did.

And then the night with Scabior came back to mind, and she sat up straight in bed. _No. No, he wouldn't be that careless. He used protection..._But yet, she couldn't remember if he did. He was a Snatcher, in the middle of the woods, with a bunch of men. He wasn't going to get shagged, so what sense would it make to bring protection? None. She shot out of bed, and grabbed the beaded bag on the floor. She fumbled through her belongings, worry building up faster and faster. Getting frustrated, she grabbed her wand and hissed; "Accio test!" The small white box flew out of the small bag, and stuffed it into the pocket of Ron's large sweatshirt that she wore. Knowing there wasn't a bathroom inside the tent, she slipped outside. "Just using the bathroom." She told Harry, slipping past him.

Without another seconds hesitation, she took out the Muggle test and took it, anxiously waiting it's result. "Please...please..." She pleaded with it, knowing it was no use. The test was either good, or bad. The only reason she ever had this test in the bag was just in case her and Ron had actually admitted their feelings for each other, and something happened. But those feelings were nothing now. They meant nothing. Ron was nothing more than a brother to her, and she felt awkward knowing that he felt much more for her. As she heard the test beep from it's place on a rock, she shut her eyes tight and grabbed it. When she opened her eyes, she just stood there. Said nothing, did nothing. Outside, she seemed calm. Inside she was screaming. _I'm carrying Scabior's child..._ And a small smile threatned to cross her lips.


	5. Chapter 5

Whatever Amount of Time it Took for Ron to Come Back:

**Hermione:**

"This doesn't change anything!" She hissed at Ron, storming away from the two boys. Inside the tent, she gently placed herself on her bed, sighing and running a hand through her honey hair. "Insufferable git..." She muttered, lying on her back. Who did he think he was, to just come strolling back into camp, and to just happen to have the Sword of Gryffindor? _I bet he thinks he's some sort of clever now, doesn't he?_ She thought, rolling her eyes. Pretty soon she fell asleep, the winter air creeping through the slight opening in the tent.

She dozed off to the sound of Ron and Harry catching up, their voices soon becoming nothing as she drifted off. Her dreams were soon haunted by Scabior's warm touch, and his sweet kisses. After a moment, Ron's pleading eyes came into view, and the pain that sat in them. As she slept, she could hear him plead with her; "_I love you Hermione. I love you...Marry me Hermione. Let's have a family, Hermione. Hermione...Hermione..."_ Soon she awoke with a jolt, not wanting to stand the dream/nightmare any longer. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she would've rather be around the Ron in reality, who kept his thoughts and feelings to himself, rather than the dream Ron, who begged for her heart.

She had awoken in the middle of the night. Ron lay on his bed, keeping the small radio close to him, and playing with one of Fred and George's inventions. Harry was most likely outside, keeping watch. "You alright?" He asked, looking in her direction. She nodded, trying to avoid eye contact. With a hesitant sigh, Ron got off his own bed, and climbed onto the edge of hers. "Can we...talk?" He asked, crossing his legs in a pretzel position.

She shrugged, daring herself to catch a glance at him. His hair had grown longer in the time that he was gone, and there was a little stubble growing on his chin. For a moment, he reminded her of Kerian. "I'm sorry, for everything i've done to you." He apologized, looking down at his hands. "'Mione, I don't want you to be mad at me. I don't want you to hate me." He added. Hermione bit her lip, averting her gaze. Of course she didn't hate him. She was frustrated with him, yes. But she could never hate him; they were so close with each other.

And then he was kissing her. Not roughly, but not gently. Just right. Their lips moved in sycronization, and her eyes widened when his tongue tried to slip past her teeth. This wasn't right. It was like kissing her brother. Then something came back from her dream. _"Let's have a family, Hermione._" Her mind wandered to her unborn child, and certain possibilties swam in her mind.

She only had to be a couple of weeks pregnant. And she wasn't even close to having a bump yet. _What if I said it was Ron's child..._She wondered. She knew it was a awful thought. Hell, it was beyond awful. What would happen if she gave birth to the kid, and it looked nothing like Ron? But still, she found herself allowing his tongue to colide with hers, and reluctantly let out a fake groan of pleasure as they started to undress.


End file.
